Friday, September 25, 2009

Want to break free but don’t remember how—can’t remember the steps.Gave everything away last time and have no energy left to pour into a new friendship.

So tired.Don’t think anyone understands.SO tired.

Sitting here crying out for someone to talk with…but there isn’t anyone.Nobody strong enough I suppose.There are a few I could call on, but none really willing to listen.None willing to really listen…they all looked like strong enough hands in the beginning.Suppose I could find a professional to listen.But then what?What about the next time?Eighty bucks a shot for a listening ear?Isn’t that what we make friends for in the first place?

Can’t make new friends.Too tired.So many years of making new friends and so many years of watching them slowly walk away.Not their faults…life moves on for them.So jealous of that.Their lives move on.

Sunday, September 06, 2009

Many people have phobias. I have many phobias. One of them is bugs. I HATE bugs. Ladybugs are okay. And an ant...but not ants. Not a madhouse of ants moving to a new place. Blech.

So, I was getting bitten by something as I was sleeping. Lots of itchy, red bites. Ever since I was a little kid whenever I got bit by something the bites end up as huge red welts. Anyway, I was going crazy. Literally.

One night I felt something crawling. I grabbed a sandwich bag and captured the culprit. I looked at him and then I looked him up on line. He looked like an honest to goodness bedbug. I was so GROSSED OUT! While I was online I ordered a kit that kills bedbugs and prevents them from returning. Then I slept on the couch.

The next day I got rid of my bed. I put it out to the trash. (I had another bed already, luckily because I was too poor to buy a new bed.) I bought some bug killer and sprayed EVERYTHING. Then I washed every bit of bedding, even stuff that was up in my closet. I bug sprayed the floor, the walls, and my chair. Anything fabric either got washed or sprayed.

I slept with my window closed so nothing could come in (and by the way, it was hella hot!) and I've rearranged my room so that my bed isn't even in the same place it was to begin with.

A few phone calls to Mom to help me calm down. A few worries that the remaining bites were psychosomatic because I'm a pro at stressing and I do that kind of stuff to myself. I had to stay home one day because my brain wouldn't let go of the itch or the fear.

The bedbug killer kit arrived and I went at it again. Spraying, washing, cleaning. Fearing.